


oh captain, my captain

by silentstreets



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angry Kissing, M/M, theyre just fuckin angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6829945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentstreets/pseuds/silentstreets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>steve's angry so tony's angry and they make out wow</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh captain, my captain

**Author's Note:**

> i should be studying for a test but this has been plaguing me all day so i had to write it and it's probably shit because i haven't written in approx 800 years

Steve’s mad when he gets home from work that night. He’s mad because one of his fuckin’ students complained about him swearing in front of the class (it only happened _once_ for chrissake) and now he’s being monitored by some guy from the department for an entire week. He’s also mad because he stayed up ’til 3am marking a stack of shitty essays his tenth grade English class wrote and like, honestly, do these fifteen-year-olds have no grasp of even the most basic concepts of the English language? To be honest, Steve’s fuckin’ _pissed_ , because those lazy kids never listen to him, and nothing he says will make them. And their shitty grades reflect badly on Steve, like it’s _his_ fault that he has to teach a class of actual imbeciles who are capable of nothing other than acting like a pack of wild dogs, let alone composing an actual coherent essay. He loves his work, sure, because when even a single student shows improvement, it makes all his long-suffering efforts worth it. But the rest of it drives him mad sometimes.

He pulls up outside his house, the roar of his bike drowning out the sound of the screaming cicadas who, seriously, can just shut the fuck up. As Steve ascends the stairs onto the front porch, Tony swings the door open.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, when he catches sight of Steve’s face, flushed from the heat, his hair matted from his helmet, his eyes actually blazing with anger. Tony is almost disappointed at the lack of smoke coming out of his ears, but hey, this isn’t a movie, is it? It’s real life, and Steve looks so goddamn good when he’s mad like this that Tony has to force himself to not say anything stupid.

“What’s for dinner?” Steve growls, shoving past Tony into the house and planting himself firmly on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, shoes on and everything.

“Nice to see you too,” Tony replies, then adds “oy, get your filthy shoes off the table you _ass_ ,” when he notices what Steve’s doing to his precious coffee table. “You know that it’s-”

“Antique, yeah, whatever,” Steve interrupts impatiently, making no move to take his shoes off or whatever.

“D’ya mind not being a dick to me? I haven’t done anything wrong,” mumbles Tony, sitting down next to Steve so their bodies are pressed together, side by side. Thigh to thigh, hip to hip, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder.

“It’s work stuff, but you wouldn’t get it cause you sit away in your little shed alone all day tinkering away at whatever the fuck it is you do.”

Steve knows he’s wrong to say that, because he’s fully aware that Tony works for a successful company, that he’s a talented and sought-after engineer, that just because he works from home it doesn’t make his job any less real. But he’s angry and, quite frankly, looking for an argument so he can let off some goddamn steam.

He feels Tony tense up against him, and stares straight ahead at the painting hanging above the television. Picking a fight is one thing, actually insulting his work is another, and he knows he’s gone too far. Tony doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Steve’s already steeling himself for the shitstorm that is sure to hit any second now. Any damn second.

Tony stands from the couch slowly, his arms crossed and his head high. It’s his fighting stance.

 _Good_.

“Do you fucking mind?”

Steve takes this as his cue to stand up and get riled up too.

“No, I don’t, actually. Cause I gotta go to work every day and deal with a bunch of wankers and idiots who can’t deal with hearing me say anything that a Saint wouldn’t, and cause I gotta spend hours tryin’ to teach a bunch of animals how to form proper sentences when all they wanna do is play fuckin’ baseball or, I dunno, just not be in class. All you gotta deal with is shit blowing up sometimes. Well, you know what, now I’m the shit that’s blowin’ up, Tony, so deal with it.”

“You’re the wanker here, not your stupid students. If they make you so angry, quit your job. Don’t take it out on me, tough guy. I’m not your personal punching bag.”

Tony’s voice becomes lower with every word he speaks, and deep down Steve is pleased because this is what he needs. He needs someone to be angry at him, he needs an excuse to yell.

“Maybe you could take that responsibility upon yourself, ya know, focus on something other than your project for once, like, I dunno, your boyfriend? Have you thought about that?”

“God, just… Just shut the fuck up, Steve. I thought you’d come home and we’d have a nice dinner and maybe watch a movie or something. But instead you stampede in here like a raging bull and maim my precious fucking coffee table,” he’s so close to shouting now, so close. “Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth.”

The air in Steve’s lungs leaves him in a single breath and he pulls Tony in by the collar, kissing him hard and bruising on the mouth, and it’s so fuckin’ _hot_ , right from the start. Tony’s hands are grabbing at his ass and Steve’s hands are wrapped around his neck, holding him in place and feeling the short, prickly hairs at the back. Steve kisses him furiously, grabbing at his hair and pulling his head back to expose his neck, sucking and biting his throat, licking against the tender skin there until Tony is gasping and fuckin’ trembling in his grasp. He pulls back for a single moment and in that second Tony’s hands are at his shirt, fumbling to undo the buttons because he wants him naked right now and there’s not a single second to lose because fuck, if Steve doesn’t get his hands on his cock in the next ten seconds it may well just fall off.

“Baby I _so_ hope your students act up more often,” Tony manages between heavy breaths.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, you idiot.”


End file.
